


Forgiveness

by pinecovewoods



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/F, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, a mess of 4k words, based off a headcanon ive talked with my friend about, it's kinda all over the place sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinecovewoods/pseuds/pinecovewoods
Summary: sooooo technically this is a race x reader but also there’s a lot of Javid in it and like the relationship between race and the reader isn’t the biggest plot point.basically this is based off of a headcanon about how long it would take race and davey and crutchie to forgive jack is he left for santa fe and then came back and 3.9K words later this is the mess that i have. crutchie doesn’t have the biggest plot but like i didnt wanna be super repetitive sooooo yeah





	Forgiveness

Everyone thought things would just go back to normal after the strike was over.

Well, not normal normal, but back to almost normal, along with a few changes; Jack’s new job, a new found confidence in being alive, a sense of respect.

And then one morning, Jack Kelly disappeared.

At first no one was concerned, thinking that maybe he was drawing for Pulitzer or out with Katherine now that they can be together in public.

But then he didn’t come home. And then he wasn’t there the next morning. And then a week came and went and no one had seen him.

“So what do we do, do we send people out to go look?” Davey asks after the eighth day had passed without a sighting of Jack.

“If he was in the city we would'a seen ‘im while we was out sellin’,” Y/N says, nervously tapping her fingers against the railing of the roof of the lodging house.

“I told the little ones he’s staying at Pulitzer’s for work,” Race says, “but Albert and the others know somethin’s up.”

“We should probably ask Crutchie,” Y/N says, intertwining hers and Race’s fingers so he would stop tugging at his hair.

“You haven’t asked Crutchie yet?” Davey practically shouts, his eyes going wide. “Christ, how long were you going to wait?”

“Alright, alright,” Race speaks calmly, squeezing the girls hand once and then dropping it, “I’ll go find Crutchie.”

“I didn’t mean to yell,” Davey says, leaning against the railing, “I just…I’m worried.”

“I know,” she places a gentle hand on his shoulder, “we all are. But he’s gonna be okay.”

The boy nods, but she doesn’t miss a tear fall down his face.

“You know…you know how you feel about Race?” He asks quietly, staring out at the skyline, “I um…Jack and I…”

“I know,” she repeats, standing with her chin resting on his shoulder, “I can see it in the way you’s look at him, and the way he looks at you. You’s good for each other.”

“You don’t think it’s abnormal?” Davey asks, cheeks shiny and wet. “You don’t think we’re screwed up or that I have a disease or-”

“Davey,” she stops his rambling, and wipes a tear from his face, “none of that is true. Look out there, look at all the buildin’s,” she speaks softly, motherly, “you really doubtin’ that there ain’t others out there like you? Cause I knows for a fact that there’s a few as close as downstairs who do.”

Davey turns to face her, eyes bright and hopeful.

“Really?”

“Yeah, 'bout half'a the newsies honestly,” she smiles, “you ever noticed how close Blink 'n Mush are? Romeo 'n Specs?”

Davey laughs a bit, wiping his face.

“I just thought they were really good friends.”

“As good as you 'n Jack.”

Davey laughs again, and Y/N smiles.

“We’s gonna find him, okay?” She nods. “And your secret is safe with me.”

Davey nods as Race and Crutchie appear at the top of the building, Crutchie holding a slightly crumbled piece of paper in his hand.

“What is it?” Y/N asks, noticing Race’s expression. “What happened?”

Crutchie holds the note out to her, but Davey pulls it from his grasp before she can. She notices Crutchie’s watery eyes, but he shakes his head when she asks the silent question.

“He left,” Race says, his voice shaking ever so slightly, “went t’ Santa Fe. Found the note he left for Crutchie…oh, Davey,” Race reaches into his pocket, pulling out another sheet of paper, “he left this for you.”

Davey practically snatches the paper from Race’s hands, eyes devouring the words.

“He um,” Race’s voice pulls her attention back to him, and she can see the tears in his eyes, “he left me’s in charge. Said that I’s ready…that we don’t need him 'ere anymore.”

“How do yo-”

Race answers her question by holding out a third piece of paper, this one more crumpled than the rest.

She scans over the words quickly, swallowing back the tears threatening to spill.

“Well,” she clears her throat, looking back up at Race, “if this…if this is what he wanted then we’s gonna do it.”

“Me? Run the newsies?” Race shakes his head. “I can’t…I ain’t ready. There’s so much that I have to learn I-”

Y/N presses her lips against his, effectively calming him down.

“Jack’s an idiot, but he ain’t stupid,” she says, “he wouldn’t'a left the kids in your charge if he didn’t think you’re ready.”

“Will you help me?”

“Course I will,” she nods, “we’s in this together.”

Race nods, letting out a desperate breath.

“Take Crutchie, have 'im explain what happened t’ the younger kids,” she says calmly, “you should tell Al 'n the others.”

“'N you?”

She glances over at Davey, who sits with his back pressed against a wall, tears falling from his eyes.

“I gotta help Davey,” she whispers, “he shouldn’t be alone.”

“Him and Jack? Those rumors?”

She nods softly, and Race presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“C'mon, Crutch,” he say, “we’s gotta talk t’ the boys.”

Y/N makes her way over to Davey as the other boys leave, kneeling down in front of him.

“S'okay,” she says as he tries to desperately wipe his face, “you can cry, Davey, s'okay.”

“He’s gone,” Davey chokes, “he left…he told me he…I thought he loved me.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Davey,” she whispers as he curls into her, “we’s gonna be okay.”

—

_*Two months after*_

“Race! Boots and Sticks are at it again!”

Romeo’s voice floats up from the door to the roof, and Race lets out a groan.

“I got it,” Crutchie says, shaking his head as Y/N starts to argue, “enjoy your time together, lord knows you don’t get much of it.”

“Thanks, Crutch,” Race says softly, leaning his head on Y/N’s shoulder.

They sit in a silence for a few moments until Race sniffs and breaks the quiet.

“Sorry,” he practically whimpers, burying his face in her neck as he cries, “I just…I dunno if I’s can do this, I dunno how t’ be him.”

She lifts his head, pressing a light kiss to his forehead.

“You don’t gotta be Jack Kelly,” she says, “you jus’ gotta be you, Racer. These boys…they respect you. They did even 'fore Jack left, and that’s why he left you in charge. He knew they’d listen to ya, and it ain’t no wonder why. You’s important to 'em, you’s important to me.”

“I know he was groomin’ me to take over but I thought…I thought it be aft'a he aged out, when he left t’ work for Pulitzer full time. I jus’ thought he’d still be there for me’s to ask questions to. I feel so alone.”

“I know, I know,” she runs her fingers through his hair to help calm him down, “but you ain’t alone, hear me? Crutchie 'n Davey 'n Al are all behind you t’ help 'n support, not to mention me,” she smiles a bit, wiping a tear off of his cheek.

“I just miss him,” he says, a sob ripping through his throat, “I miss my brother.”

“C'mere,” she says, wrapping him in her arms, “s'okay, love. I gotcha. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Race fell asleep crying that night, like he had done almost every night since Jack left.

—

_*Five months after*_

“Hey Y/N?” Crutchie’s voice comes from behind her, and she turns to face him. “Can I’s talk to you for a minute?”

“Course,” she replies, patting the mattress next to her, “everythin’ okay?”

He nods as he sits, but then she sees his bottom lip start to tremble.

“S-sorry I just,” he wipes his face, “I ain’t cried since the day we figured out he actually left…Race tol’ me 'bout how you helped 'im 'n I guess, I guess I just needed t’ talk t’ someone.”

“Well I’m 'ere,” she replies, giving him a sad half smile, “you can talk t’ me.”

“I guess it’s just…” Crutchie shakes his head, straightening his leg on the mattress, “the way he left, it’s like he didn’t want us t’ figure it out. I mean…he left all three of the notes in the cupboard by the front door under some of Finch’s old flannels. It’s like he was tryin'a just disappear without us knowin’.”

“What he did hurt, but the way he did it,” she shakes her head, taking a deep breath, “feels like betrayal.”

“Exactly,” Crutchie replies, scrubbing at is face, “I feel like…I mean everyone knows that Jack 'n I became newsies together, 'n that he was the one who found me’s left on the street…I jus’ neva thought he’d be the reason I’d feel abandoned.”

“Oh Crutchie,” she sighs, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb, “you’s not alone, you know that right?”

“I know, really,” he nods, “you’s my family, more than he eva was. Cause you ain’t leavin’, and family don’t leave.”

“Family don’t leave.”

—

_*Nine months after*_

The knock on the door comes too late at night to be any newsie, which is the reason Y/N grabs the extra crutch left by the door to use incase someone tried to break in.

She opens the door quickly, holding the crutch up in a swinging position as she does.

“It’s me, it’s me!” Jack practically jumps in the air, throwing his hands up in front of his face. “Jesus, Y/N, what the hell do you think you’s doin’?”

“What the hell are you doin’ 'ere?!” Y/N yells, setting the crutch back against the wall.

“I uh,” Jack shrugs, adjusting the bag resting on his shoulder, “tried Santa Fe. Decided it ain’t for me.”

“How _dare_ you,” she practically spits, pulling him into the lodging house and slamming the door behind him, “you have the audacity to lead us to victory against Pulitzer and then leave with nothing but fuckin’ notes hidden under Finch’s old clothes and nine months later you think you can just show up and explain everything away with 'it ain’t for me’? _Bullshit_ , Jack Kelly.”

Before he can respond, she lifts her hand and slaps him across the fact, breathing heavy and almost her entire body shaking.

“What’s with all the yellin’?” Race asks, his footsteps echoing in the empty house with Davey following close behind. They stop at the foot of the steps, both pairs of eyes widening. “Christ…”

“Jack?” Davey speaks as if he’s looking at a ghost, his face pale.

“Get out.”

The attention switches from Jack to Race, who stands with his arms crossed over his chest and his hands balled into fists.

“Racer I d-”

“No, you don’t get t’ talk,” he shakes his head, pointing at the door, “you turned eighteen three months ago, Kelly, you’s too old t’ be a newsie, so get the _hell_ out.”

“Aight, I’m leavin’,” Jack grabs his bag from the floor.

Race moves from his spot, but only to open the door and slam it behind Jack as he leaves.

“He doesn’t just get to come back,” he says roughly, staring holes into the floor.

She notices Davey’s breathing before he does, the boy clutching at his shirt as if trying to tear it off.

“I can’t…I can’t breathe,” he gasps, sliding down onto the floor as he sputters, “I can’t…”

“Race, get some water,” she says, kneeling down in front of Davey, “hey, look at me, you’re okay, everythin’s okay.”

“I don’t…why is he here?” He asks, breathing rapidly and unevenly. “What’s happening to me?”

“You’s havin’ a panic attack, Davey,” she speaks as calmly as she can, trying to keep her voice from shaking as Race hands the other boy a glass of water, “s'okay, we’s gonna get you through it.”

“He’s back…why is he back?”

“I dunno,” she shakes her head, “don’t focus on that, jus’ take some deep breaths for me, yeah?”

He does as she asks, and soon enough his breathing is back to as normal as possible.

“I’m not just dreamin’, right?” He whispers. “He was really 'ere?”

“Yeah, he was,” she says softly, motioning for him to drink the rest of the water.

“Where’s he gonna go?” He asks. “He shouldn’t just be on the streets.”

Race sits down next to her and Davey, intertwining his fingers with hers.

“He’ll go to Medda’s, don’t worry,” Crutchie says from the top of the steps, “he knew he wouldn’t be welcomed back with open arms. Like Y/N said when he put Race in charge, he’s an idiot, but he’s not stupid.”

“You doin’ okay, Crutch?” she asks.

“Better than I thought I would be,” he uses his crutch to brace himself as he sits on the top step, “I’s uh…thought 'bout 'im comin’ back a lot.”

“He doesn’t get to come back,” Race says, “not aft'a what he’s done, not aft'a nine months of nothin’.”

“Race I kn-”

“No,” Race stands, face hard and angry, “he doesn’t jus’ get t’ waltz in 'ere 'n pretend everythin’s normal. He doesn’t get t’ come back.”

He stomps up the stairs as his words echo through the lodging, leaving the other three in a silent shock.

“He’s not okay,” Davey says.

“None of us are,” she replies, sighing a bit, “I’ll go talk to 'im.”

She makes her way up to the roof, the cool night air causing her to shiver a bit as she walks to where Race is sitting.

“Didn’t mean t’ snap,” he whispers, “I jus’…nine months of nothin’ 'n he strolls in 'ere like nothin’s changed. It’s not fair.”

“I know,” she says, leaning her head on his shoulder, “I’m not sayin’ we welcome 'im back no questions, but I think we’s should hear 'im out.”

“He’s eighteen,” Race says, “he ain’t a newsie no more. We don’t gotta let 'im back.”

“I ain’t sayin’ that we should let 'im back,” she responds, “I’m sayin’ we’s should at least talk t’ 'im, try t’ understand what happened.”

“You can talk t’ 'im if you wanna,” Race says, “I don’t wanna hear nothin’ he has t’ say.”

“Aight,” she sighs, “’m gonna go check on Davey, make sure he’s doin’ okay.”

“Hey,” he grabs her hand before she leaves, rubbing his thumb over the skin, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she smiles, pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I’ll see you in the mornin’.”

—

She takes a deep breath, shaking her hand to get rid of the nerves before knocking on the door to Medda’s.

“Hey sweetie,” the woman says, a knowing smile on her face, “you here to see Jack?”

“Yeah,” she says, “someone needs t’ be the bigger person.”

Medda nods, and opens the door for her to step through.

“He’s up in the rafters paintin’,” she says, “take all the time you need.”

Y/N smiles in thanks and makes her way up to the rafters, walking quietly as to not alert Jack of her presence quiet yet.

She watches him paint for a few seconds, and when he takes a step back she finally speaks.

“That’s new,” she says, holding back the smile as he jumps at her voice, “usually it’s all mountain ranges and railroads with you. This, a cityscape…that’s new.”

“Course they sent you,” he mutters, practically throwing his paintbrush into the tin can.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Jus’ makes sense,” Jack replies, wiping his hands off on a rag, “four days of silence 'n the person they send t’ fix it is you.”

“Christ, Jack!” She shouts, tugging at the ends of her hair. “No one sent me 'ere, I came 'ere on my own t’ try 'n fix things. You’s pissed over four days of us not talkin’ to ya? How about nine _fucking_ months of you bein’ gone with nothin’ more than a couple'a notes?”

“I’m sorry, alright! Jesus, I’m sorry!” He yells back.

They’re silent for a few moments, and then she speaks again.

“I didn’t come 'ere t’ yell at you,” she says, “I came t’ hear you out, cause I know you, 'n I know that you don’t do things without havin’ reasons behind 'em. The Jack Kelly I know wouldn’t jus’ take off t’ Santa Fe without havin’ some sorta plan.”

“I just…” Jack practically collapsing onto the stool with his head in his hands, “I thought it was were I’s supposed t’ be. Thought I’d be happier there but I…god, it was so much worse than I was thinkin’.”

“It took you nine months t’ figure out you don’t belong there?” She shakes her head, sitting down in front of him. “I thought…those first few days when we’s couldn’t find ya…I thought you was dead, Jackie.”

Jack lifts his head, and she can finally see the wetness of his eyes.

“God I never…I never even thought'a what you’s thought before you’s found the notes,” he whispers, “I should'a came back sooner, I know that now. I’m sorry.”

“What happened?” She questions. “Talk to me…tell me, please.”

“You knows I always dreamed'a goin’ out West,” he says, “'n with the starter money from Pulitzer I had enough t’ get out there 'n start a life…I dunno, country life ain’t for me I guess. Jus’ didn’t feel like home.”

“You should talk t’ the boys, explain what happened,” she says, “Crutchie first, 'n then Davey then Race.”

“In that order?”

She laughs a bit.

“Crutchie’s gonna forgive you faster, he’s ticked off yeah but he ain’t irrational,” she says, “Davey 'n you…I mean he tol’ me 'bou-”

“Davey told you 'bout…us?” He whispers the last word, face pale.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she places a comforting hand on his knee, nodding, “he did. 'N I’m happy for the both of you. He’s gonna take some more time t’ understand, but he’ll come 'round pretty easy. Racer-”

“Race hates me,” Jack says, “I hate me.”

“Race’ll come 'round,” she says, “he’ll forgive you, you jus’ gotta give 'im some time.”

Jack nods, and after a few minutes of quiet he speaks again.

“Do you forgive me?”

She smiles sadly, but nods.

“Yeah,” she says, “I do. I’m unbelievably pissed off at the way you left, but I’m glad you’s back.”

“Thanks Y/N,” Jack says, “I’ll talk t’ Crutch. He still sleepin’ on the roof?”

“Nah, he’s been down with the little kids since you’s left,” she explains, “Race uh…Race 'n I 'ave been up on the roof. He needs the space, aft'a runnin’ things all day.”

“I shouldn’t'a done what I did t’ him, t’ all'a you’s,” he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

—

She’s right, with a little bit of talking and some crying (not necessarily just from Crutchie) Jack and Crutchie are back on normal terms.

Climbing the fire escape to Davey’s building, Jack feels his palms start to sweat. He knocks on Davey’s window soft enough to not wake the rest of the house, and wipes his hands on his pants.

“Jack?” The boy breathes, eyes wide. “What…what are you doing here?”

“I jus’ wanna talk,” Jack explains, “please, Dave, jus’ lemme explain.”

David sighs, but nods. He climbs out the window and closes it almost fully.

“You’ve got five minutes,” he says, sitting crisscrossed on the landing and staring at his lap.

“I shouldn’t'a left ya the way I did, Davey,” Jack whispers, eyes already watery, “I should'a talked t’ ya, told ya what I was plannin’ on doin’ or had you come with me’s or…I jus’ should'a talked t’ ya. I know that now…I’m so unbelievable sorry for what I did. I never meant t’ hurt ya.”

“Didn’t mean to hurt me?” Davey shakes his head. “You were gone for nine months and all I had was a note saying you had to leave New York,” the boy finally looks up at Jack, “that’s not what you do to someone you supposedly love.”

“I do love you!” Jack breathes, a tear falling down his cheek. “I love you more than I’s ever loved anythin’ or anyone in the world, Davey. What I did was stupid 'n selfish 'n wrong 'n I jus’…I want us t’ be okay again.”

“It’s gonna take more than jus’ this to get me to forgive ya,” Davey whispers, “Imma need some time to think about things. But I…I think I’ll be able to. Just give me some time.”

“That’s fair,” Jack nods a bit vigorously, and Davey laughs softly, “take all the time you’s need.”

Jack feels his heart melt a bit as Davey smiles. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of the Jack’s mouth, and they both know everything’s going to be okay.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jackie.”

Race takes longer than even she expected. Five months after Jack came back the boys have barely spoken more than four words to each other.

“You need t’ talk t’ 'im,” Y/N says frustratedly, “let 'im explain himself, Racer, please.”

“Why should I talk to 'im?” Race argues. “He went nine months without speakin’ to us, I’m jus’ givin’ him a taste of his own medicine.”

“Fine,” she walks over to the door of the roof and slams it shut behind her.

Race swears under his breath, banging the palm of his hand against the rail of the roof.

“Careful, don’t wanna break your hand.”

The blonde spins around, gaze landing on Jack standing by the door.

“Get out,” he spits, “I don’t wanna talk t’ you. Leave.”

“Wish I could but ah,” Jack tries the handle to the door, showing Race that it’s locked, “Y/N said she ain’t gonna unlock it 'til we’s figure everythin’ out.”

“Course she did,” Race whispers, folding his arms across his chest as he leans against the rail, “I ain’t interesting in nothin’ you gotta say.”

“I’m sorry for the way things happened,” Jack speaks anyway, “I shouldn’t'a left without tellin’ ya. But I knew you was ready. I knew you wouldn’t let anythin’ happen t’ the boys.”

Race is silent, eyes trained on the ground beneath his shoes.

“You was always meant t’ replace me’s as a leader, Race,” Jack shrugs, “it jus’ happened 'fore I aged out, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” Race scoffs, staring daggers into Jack. “That’s all? Right, cause bein’ abandoned by family 'n havin’ to explain t’ the boys that the one person they actually trusted took off is nothin’.”

“I didn’t think t-”

“No, ya didn’t think,” Race cuts him off, “cause you was all up on'a high horse with your money from drawin’ and you just assumed that we’d be fine without'cha. And guess what cowboy, you were right, we don’t need you.”

Jack goes to argue, but the words die on his tongue when he hears Race start crying. The blonde holds his hand over his eyes, trying to hide the tears as Jack moves closer to him.

“I cried myself t’ sleep practically every night since you left,” Race spits, the words sad but the tone harsh, “you took off 'n left me t’ deal with the aftermath, that’s a real shitty thing t’ do, Kelly.”

“I know,” Jack speaks gently, not used to seeing the other boy cry, “if I could take it back I would, but I can’t. 'N I’s gonna be sorry for it for the rest'a my life, but I’s back now. I’m 'ere.”

Race practically collapses into Jack’s arms, the older boy holding him up so he doesn’t fall to the concrete. Race cries into Jack’s shirt, Jack running his hands through Race’s hair to help calm him down.

“I’m sorry,” Jack whispers repeatedly as Race settles, “I’m sorry.”

“You’s an asshole, Jack Kelly,” Race says through the tears as Jack helps the two of them sit down on the ground.

“I know,” Jack replies, trying not to laugh a bit, “I’m sorry. But I wouldn’t be any sort'a brother if I wasn’t'a dick every now 'n then.”

“Next time you need'ta be a dick don’t go galavantin’ 'cross the country, okay?” Race wipes his face with the back of his hand.

“I promise,” Jack nods, thumbing a tear away, “love you, Racer, 'n I’m so proud'a you.”

“Love you too, Jackie,” Race replies.

Faintly, they hear the door to the roof click open, and both boys laugh briefly.

“She’s a smart one, that girl,” Jack says, “probably smarter than Davey 'n Katherine combined.”

“She’s somethin’,” Race says with a soft smile, “god I love her so much.”

Jack smiles back, and pats the boys shoulder comfortingly.

“Let’s get back inside.”

“Wait, can we,” Race pauses, shrugging a bit, “can we stay out 'ere for a little longer? I just…I missed bein’ with you.”

“Yeah, course we’s can,” Jack nods, wrapping an arm around Race’s smaller frame, “I’ll be 'ere, as long as you’s need me.”

**Author's Note:**

> damn that's a weak ass ending sorry


End file.
